This Time Forever Page 32

  “Kelle,” he murmured, the name a hot whisper against her cheek. She could taste the salt on his skin, smell the maleness of him. “You are so beautiful tonight. That blue dress . . . It’s better than all that black.”

  “Damon,” she whispered, but the name came out with difficulty as she recalled her intimate moments with Riley.

  What on earth was she doing? She knew better than to toy with such fire. She pulled abruptly away.

  He kept his arms loosely about her, gazing into her eyes with a forcefulness that frightened her. “Kelle, I think I’m falling in love with you.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. “I think I’ve been falling in love with you ever since I saw you on my porch, soaked to the skin, glaring at me like you wanted to kill me.”

  “Damon, I . . .” She wanted to say how much she enjoyed being with him, how she had longed for his kiss, how she suspected she was also falling in love with him, but she couldn’t. Something inside her rebelled at giving her heart away again. How well did she really know him after only a week? She thought she had known Riley.

  “What about Rebekka?” she managed.

  Damon sighed. “I think that as hard as we try, Bekka and I will only be friends. Don’t you think that after living under the same roof for five months, we should have progressed past the first date? Belle had a lot to do with the delay, certainly, but if we had truly been meant for each other, we would have made time to be together. At work, for instance.” He cupped her chin with his hand, softly stroking her skin with his thumb. “Bekka is a beautiful and intelligent person, but you are the woman I’ve dreamed of meeting.”

  “Damon,” she protested, pulling her face away from his touch. “I—I’m not ready for this. Please, let me go.”

  He dropped his hands immediately. “I don’t understand. When I kissed you . . .” He bent his head as though to kiss her again, but Mickelle backed up against the door, fighting both panic and the contradictory urge to fall into his arms. She pushed her fists against his chest.

  He stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. “All right. Don’t worry. I won’t force you. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  His face was so defenseless that Mickelle wanted to throw herself against him, to hold him like he wanted to hold her. Instead, she stared at the cement porch beneath their feet. “My husband . . . it hasn’t been even five months . . . I’m just not ready. I can’t—” I can’t lose myself again. I worked too hard to find me.

  She couldn’t say any of that aloud, but she felt instinctively that Damon was too dangerous to love. He would demand her whole heart, and she simply couldn’t give it. She had done so once already, and had nearly lost her will to live.

  “Kelle.” His gentle tone encouraged her to look up at him. “It’s all right. You just let me know when you’re ready, okay? I trust your judgment.” He reached out and briefly squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She wanted to yell after him that she would never be ready, that he should marry Rebekka and move to France where she would never see him again, but the memory of his kiss and the fire in her veins stopped her. For a moment, she had found heaven in his arms. Could any of that be maintained on a daily basis? When she was fixing his dinners and washing his clothes, would she resent it as she had with Riley, or would she treasure the service as other women seemed to do?

  Her fingers went to her still-burning lips, and her heart ached with longing. What did she really want?

  * * * * *

  Damon drove home slowly, pondering Mickelle’s reaction. She had responded to his kisses, yet only moments later, her eyes had shown fear. He felt helpless. What should he do next? Certainly the moment had been pivotal for him. He knew they had something good and right, something they shouldn’t let slip through their fingers.

  She was so beautiful, like a butterfly that had cast off its dull black shell and emerged into the light. Her presence filled him with a sense of well-being. Of rightness. His gut reaction told him they belonged together. Forever.

  Somehow he had to find a way to convince her. Couldn’t she see they’d been destined to meet? He felt it now as strongly as he’d ever felt anything. They got along well—more than well. They were both members of the same faith. He was attracted to her, and he knew she felt a similar attraction. He enjoyed her children; they needed a father. She loved Belle; Belle needed a mother. Tanner did, too. He had plenty of money to take care of both families. Above all, he really cared for Mickelle. So why weren’t they together, discussing possibilities for the future?

  Her husband . . .

  Had she been so in love with him that to love another would desecrate his memory?

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. When Charlotte had first taken ill, he had vowed never to remarry, though Charlotte hadn’t asked for his promise. She’d told him he needed a companion almost as much as the children needed a mother. For most of their married life, Charlotte had been too sick to be either of those things.

  Now, most unexpectedly, there was Mickelle, whose bright eyes and kind heart had found a place in his life. His soul swelled with love and tenderness, and he blessed the day Tanner had smashed into her car. That ugly old Snail. But what if she couldn’t return his love?

  I can’t give her up.

  He had waited a long time to find Mickelle, but while he wouldn’t give her up easily, he wouldn’t rush her, either. He would put a strong rein on the heady emotions she had unleashed within him, and show her that he was a man she could depend on. A man who would eventually marry her. A man with patience.

  He sighed, envisioning her stormy blue eyes. It wouldn’t be easy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Marc spent Monday night in a hotel in Salt Lake City. It had taken over five minutes to find the right phrases in his guidebook to let the taxi driver know his wishes, and another ten to settle things with the clerk at the hotel, but overall Marc was pleased with himself. Getting along in a foreign country wasn’t as impossible as it had appeared.

  He wanted to call Rebekka immediately, but had no idea where she was staying. They had always communicated by e-mail, and though he’d asked her for her phone number a few times, she had never given it to him. Brionney would know where she was, and he did have that number because she kept in contact with her brother in France, but he hesitated to call her so late. The next morning would be soon enough.

  So he called France instead, where it was early morning, to let his family know he had arrived in Utah safely. Then he went to bed and dreamed all night of Rebekka walking down the aisle, and of himself arriving too late to stop the wedding.

  * * * * *

  “I’m sorry for the awkwardness of the situation,” Damon said, looking uncomfortable. He adjusted his tie, though it was already straight. “I really didn’t expect to feel this way about her, and I thought it only fair to tell you.”

  Rebekka sighed and sat in the chair opposite Damon’s desk. She had seen it coming, seen the way Damon had looked at Mickelle, but still the blow left her reeling. “It’s okay,” she muttered. “I understand.”

  “Even so, I’m sorry. I never meant to lead you on.”

  She met his eyes then. “You didn’t, Damon.” She forced a smile. “We’ve had fun anyway, haven’t we?”

  “Yeah. I worry about Belle, though, now that she’s finally coming around.”

  “There’s the piano, and even if you do get another teacher, I’ll stay in touch. Besides, with Mickelle, she probably won’t need me for long.”

  “Thank you, Rebekka.” Damon’s words were sincere. “You’re a wonderful woman. I mean that.”

  Then why am I alone? Rebekka stifled the retort. She knew in her heart that Damon had chosen wisely. Mickelle was the sort of motherly woman he needed for his children. A woman who enjoyed making a home and caring for others. Rebekka, on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted.

  Damon leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “You know, for a moment last night I wanted to
ask her to marry me.”

  “So soon?” Rebekka raised her eyebrows. “Not a good idea.”

  “I know, it sounds fast, but everything just fell into place. Like the answer was in front of me the whole time.” He frowned. “But she . . . I think she’s scared.”

  “Of course she’s scared. You’ve known her for less than a week!”

  Damon leaned forward, his amber eyes intense. “I feel like I’ve known her much longer. I know she feels the same way, but when I tried to discuss it with her, she said she wasn’t ready. I need to find out how to help her be ready.”

  “This is not one of your business deals, Damon,” Rebekka said, allowing a hint of anger to show in her voice. “You can’t make someone feel something.” Heaven knew she’d tried. “Just give her some time. She already knows what a wonderful father you are. Give her a chance to see that it’s real, not just an act.”

  Damon sighed. “I know. It’s just that I’m afraid of losing her. She’s been dating someone else. A cop—younger than she is. Too young, if you ask me.”

  Rebekka had heard enough. She didn’t need to sit here and have her youth wielded against her like a sword. “Look, I have work to do. That’s what you’re paying me for.”

  He grinned. “Thanks for listening.”

  “You’re welcome.” And then, because she really was happy for Damon despite her own pain, she added, “Why don’t you find out what kind of a relationship she had with her husband? Maybe that will shed some light on why she reacted the way she did last night. If she was totally in love with him or if they didn’t get along, that might help you understand her better.” Raising a hand in farewell, she ignored her impulse to have a good cry in the rest room, and went instead to her cubicle and buried herself in her work. When the phone rang an hour later, she almost didn’t hear it.

  “Hello, Rebekka with two Ks,” said a familiar voice.

  “Samuel.” She was glad to hear from him.

  “Hey, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you come out here and take a peek at our setup? That way you can make an informed decision. If you work for Corban International, you’ll have your own private office—a nice one with a great view of the city—a nearby park for lunch, great restaurants. Come and check it out. You could fly out here for a day or two, and be back there by the weekend.”

  Before Damon’s announcement, Rebekka wouldn’t have considered picking up and leaving so abruptly, if only for a few days. But now she found herself wanting to leave Utah. “I don’t know,” she stalled.

  “You can work here just as well as there,” Samuel urged. “I even bought you a plane ticket.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “For tomorrow. But don’t worry, it’s exchangeable.”

  “I can’t just pick up and leave with no warning.”

  He must have sensed that her voice lacked conviction. “Why not? The project needs you here.” His voice deepened almost imperceptibly. “I need you here. I can talk to Damon if you’d like.”

  “No.” Rebekka knew that Damon would say yes, if only to soothe his conscience. But Rebekka didn’t trust herself around Samuel. There was a spark between them that threatened to burst into flame, but would it be enough? Despite her continued disappointments with men, she didn’t want her parents’ relationship.

  “Think about it.” Samuel’s voice was persuasive.

  “Okay. I’ll let you know.” Rebekka hung up and went back to work. Of course she wouldn’t go to Cincinnati tomorrow, even if she decided to accept Samuel’s job offer. It was too soon, and she needed time to think.

  An hour later, Juliet came in with a large bouquet of fresh flowers. “A company just delivered them,” she said, setting the vase on the desk.

  “Who would send me flowers?” Rebekka touched the petals of a daisy.

  “There’s a card,” Juliet pointed out.

  Rebekka slipped a short fingernail under the flap and read the note: Did you decide yet? She smiled.

  “Well?” asked Juliet.

  “They’re from Samuel.”

  Juliet grinned. “I knew he liked you. I knew it! That is one good-looking man.” She frowned. “Too bad he’s not a member.” Juliet knew how important that was to Rebekka. “But maybe he could take the discussions.”

  “His parents are very active in another religion, and I think Samuel is happy where he’s at. He told me as much himself.”

  Juliet looked away from Rebekka and at the flowers. She sighed enviously. “Well, he sure is romantic.”

  Rebekka gazed at the flowers, seeing instead Samuel’s handsome face. “Yes, he is.”

  She tried to return to work, but couldn’t seem to concentrate. She kept thinking about Samuel’s offer and Damon’s attraction for Mickelle. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Why couldn’t Samuel be a member, when he seemed so perfect in every other way? Why couldn’t Damon have fallen in love with her, and she with him? Rebekka slammed her fist against the padded armrest of her chair. Darn it all! Acting on her anger wouldn’t solve anything, but it made her feel better.

  Her phone rang again and she picked it up, sure it was Samuel. “Rebekka?” It was Juliet. “There’s someone out here to see you. Are you free?” The way the receptionist’s voice quivered, Rebekka knew it was probably a man.

  “Who is it?”

  Juliet hesitated. “He wants to surprise you . . . I think.”

  Samuel! Why wouldn’t he give her time? And how did he get here so quickly? He must have been in Salt Lake when he called the first time.

  “Okay. Send him back.”

  Rebekka looked around and saw that the other people who had cubicles in the conference room had gone to lunch. The words on her computer screen danced before her eyes as she tried to focus on them. She couldn’t decide if she was angry or excited that Samuel had come to visit.

  She heard someone enter, but her back was to the door and she refused to look up. Hands closed over her eyes. “Samuel?” she asked.

  “Wrong.” The voice spoke in French.

  Rebekka jerked her head around in surprise. His dark hair was longer than she remembered, but each curve of his face was the same. His deep brown eyes locked onto hers as she greedily drank in his presence, his smell, his very being. Joy sang in her veins until she squelched it. Those feelings are gone.

  “You!” The anger she’d been holding in all day flared. She welcomed the emotion, allowed it to roll over her and through all her senses. Better to feel the anger than the terrible, hurtful gladness at seeing him. “Why are you here?” she demanded.

  Marc looked puzzled. “I came to visit. I thought you’d be glad.”

  Glad to have my wounds ripped open? Glad to want nothing more than to follow you around like a puppy?

  He raked his hand through his hair. “I’ve come to check out this man of yours.”

  Rebekka stood stiffly. She desperately wanted to throw her arms around Marc, but instead she offered her cheeks almost gingerly to be kissed in the French custom. “It’s good to see you,” she managed.

  “My parents send their love. And André.”

  “What about my family? How are they?” The small talk was difficult for Rebekka, but she forced herself to act as though it was nothing out of the ordinary to have Marc fly thousands of miles to stop by. Once she would have been thrilled, but she was over that feeling. There was no more room for him in her broken heart.

  Marc’s handsome face looked sheepish. “They were fine the last I saw them. I didn’t visit them before I left. I didn’t really tell anyone I was going, except for my family.”

  “Are you here on business?”

  “I just needed to get away. You seem like you’re having such a good time here. I thought maybe I’d come and . . .” His face grew worried. “Rebekka, is something wrong? You don’t seem very happy to see me.”

  “I am happy to see you. Just a bit shocked, that’s all.” She glanced at her computer— anything not to look into his eyes. “I have a l
ot of work to do. I can’t take time off.” Actually, she could, but she didn’t want to be alone with Marc any more than necessary.

  There was a sound at the door, and Rebekka saw Damon standing there. “Rebekka, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked. “It can wait if you’re busy.”

  Rebekka took Marc’s arm and propelled him to the door. “Damon, meet my old friend, Marc Perrault. He’s visiting from France and stopped by to see me. Marc, this is Damon. He’s the boss around here. Or one of them. The children I used to watch are his.”

  Damon shook Marc’s hand. “Good to meet you. Did you just get in today?”

  “No, I come last night,” Marc replied. Rebekka winced at the terrible accent, but Damon didn’t seem to notice. Marc’s language skills in French grammar were better than most, but he had never spoken English very well. “I stay at the hotel last night, and today I rent a car and come here.”

  “That’s quite a long flight. How long will you be staying?”

  “I am not sure.”

  Damon smiled again, touching Rebekka’s arm lightly. “Everything’s okay, right?” he said softly, but not privately.

  She knew that Damon was referring to their chat that morning, but Rebekka was all too aware of Marc’s presence. There was no way she wanted Marc to know that she and her employer were no longer “dating.” She slipped her arm around Damon’s waist and gave him a half-hug. “Yes, Damon. Thanks.” He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed briefly, and then they both dropped their arms to their sides.